Diego on for The son of God

Growing up as the initially unrecognised offspring of Diego Maradona wasn't easy, but after winning his dad's heart and enjoying success in beach soccer, the Neapolitan explains why he's now found peace

- Daniele Verri

During the summer of 1986, babies named Diego Armando Maradona were nothing unusual in Naples. In his first two years living beneath Mount Vesuvius, El Pibe de Oro had transformed Napoli from a mid-table side into Serie A title challengers - oh, and he'd just singlehandedly won Argentina the World Cup.

This was the best footballer on the planet, worshipped by millions. In the week after Maradona had laid on Jorge Burruchaga's winner at the Azteca, 5.5 per cent of all babies born in Argentina were named Diego, a fourfold increase from previously. One suspects the figure in southern Italy wasn't altogether dissimilar. More than the Karl-Heinzes in Milan or Michels in Turin for Messrs Rummenigge and Platini, anyway.

In a city of football lunatics, poorer and mercilessly derided by the northern metropolises, Maradona's Naples arrival in July 1984 brought fresh hope and resurrection. Almost seven years on, the two Scudetti, a UEFA Cup, Coppa Italia and Supercoppa Italiana he delivered offered redemption, too.

"Diego represented so much - he was one of us, he was the God of Football here in Naples," explains Antonio 'Bostik' Esposito. The former head of Napoli's ultras speaks with a hoarse voice shaped by a thousand cigarettes. "The greatest footballer in history. Superhuman." Today, Bostik runs a bar in the Largo Maradona, a spot in Napoli's Quartieri Spagnoli district that's home to a giant mural of the iconic No.10, the altar at which to pay homage, leave relics, flowers and stock up on local street sellers' magnet-heavy paraphernalia.